


i wanna give you wild love

by wardo_wedidit



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drinking Games, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Never Have I Ever, Past Relationship(s), Porn with Feelings, Power Outage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-17 21:13:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18106583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wardo_wedidit/pseuds/wardo_wedidit
Summary: David and Patrick's movie night takes a turn when the power goes out in Schitt's Creek. David's never been a fan of storms, and Patrick tries a couple creative methods to relax him.





	i wanna give you wild love

**Author's Note:**

> Equal parts plot, porn, tropes, and feelings! What more could you ask for? 
> 
> Basically, I wanted to write something sexy for this pairing and also explore some of David's feelings of being inadequate/fucked up that he developed from previous relationships. Too many words (and too little graduate coursework done) later, this is it.
> 
>  
> 
> Hover over for spoiler/warning if desired.

Spring seemingly hit Schitt’s Creek with a vengeance this year, and today, that meant it had started raining at about 10 AM and when they were closing up the store at 5, it still showed absolutely no signs of stopping.

The forecast had said it would be a torrential downpour basically all weekend with thunder and lightning on and off, which, normally, David wouldn’t have had any complaints about. He never has any qualms about cuddling up under some blankets and reading all weekend. Maybe letting Patrick order them pizza, curling in bed beside him and kissing him lazily until Patrick is _begging_ for more, getting close and getting off and falling asleep wrapped up in each other. Not a bad Saturday night by any standards.

But _this_ weekend was when Patrick was supposed to take him to this dark sky site an hour away he’d found, and honestly, David had been pretty excited to go stargazing with his boyfriend.

Of course, he fully expected it would be about 20% stargazing, 20% snacking, and 60% making out under the night sky, but still. Patrick had wanted to go _camping_ initially. And David loves him, but camping was surely an advanced relationship milestone he had no desire to cross off the list yet. After a rambling anxiety spiral at Stevie about it for a full 45 minutes, she’d suggested dark sky sites, and it had proved to be an effective compromise.

He knows he’s pouting about it around the store, to the point where Patrick finally has to crowd into his space and hook his fingers through David’s belt loops. “David,” he says, in a tone one would use when dealing with the tantrum of a small child (or perhaps a soap opera veteran), “We will reschedule the dark sky night. How about we have a movie night instead? Your pick.”

Patrick lands a soft kiss on David’s cheek to sweeten the deal, and Alexis, who was “helping out” at the store today—if you could call it that—squealed in gross, supportive happiness. David flips her off behind Patrick’s back for good measure.

“I guess,” he agrees, reluctant, but becoming less so by the second as Patrick presses a hand on his lower back. “I did see that _13 Going On 30_ is streaming now, so.”

“ _13 Going On 30_?” Patrick asks, brow going furrowed as he untangles himself from David, going back to wiping down the register counter. “Isn’t that kind of a creepy concept?”

There’s a beat before Alexis lets out a god-awful _shriek_ that David is nearly positive will cause them all long-term hearing damage.

She scurries over to loop her arm through Patrick’s, just beaming, and quite a contrast to Patrick, who looks nothing short of baffled. “Oh my god Patrick, you have no idea what you’re in for here and that is _so_ cute.”

“I—”

“One,” David begins, face deadly serious, “The emotional depth of the film transcends the premise, and the ending alone makes it one of the most moving romantic comedies of all time. Two, Jennifer Garner gives a comedic yet touchingly honest performance, and it remains arguably her best work to date. Three, the music includes all the major 80s divas but makes the straight-up _genius_ decision to pair them with some excellent mid-2000s pop gems—”

“Oh my god, okay,” Patrick concedes, eyes wide. “Okay, we’ll watch it! I didn’t know it was so important.”

David gives him a blank look as if to say, _I know you didn’t, that’s why I was explaining_ , though it’s somewhat undercut by Alexis, who’s bouncing up and down on her toes.

“Get ready for that—” she says, gesturing up and down at David, “—for a full 97 minutes.”

Patrick had seemed a tad afraid, but David felt that was probably appropriate. He should go into this experience with an appreciation of how important this really was.

 

//

 

Which is why, when the power goes out before they even get to the “Thriller” scene, David is nearly apoplectic. He paces in front of the television while Patrick goes out to check the hallway, where plenty of other people are also peeking out of doors to discover the unhappy fact that it’s not just their apartment.

“I just texted Stevie,” he says when he returns. “She says the power’s out at her place too, and the motel. Sounds like it could be all of Schitt’s Creek, in which case it’s probably a major line, so who knows when it’ll be back on.”

David presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and groans.

“David?” Patrick prompts, just a slight edge of teasing in his voice. “Are you okay?”

David swallows hard and nods, jerky and unconvincingly, eyes still closed as he gestures frantically. “It’s just like, there’s a flow? And you haven’t even gotten invested in Mark Ruffalo’s character yet, and yes, his performance is quiet and understated, but the success of the story depends on you falling a little bit in love with him—”

Patrick catches David’s hands in his own. “David?” he prompts, and David opens his eyes as Patrick’s thumbs stoke over the bump of his wrist bone. He’s grinning, and his tone is slightly mocking but also so fond. “I promise, we will watch _13 Going on 30_. We’re just taking a rain check tonight. A literal one.”

David sighs, resigned. “Well, what else are we supposed to do?” He feels silly almost as soon as he’s said it, blush coloring his cheeks.

“I was thinking cards,” Patrick shoots back, absolutely deadpan, and David rolls his eyes, though he’s not sure Patrick can see it in the dark. “But first, can you see if you can find the flashlight in the closet?”

David digs through the closet to no success, but Patrick does manage to unearth some tapered candles from a random kitchen drawer, as well as candlesticks and matches, which honestly makes no sense. They move the coffee table out of the way for more room and settle cross-legged on the floor in front of the couch, candles between them. It feels slightly familiar, like something he and Alexis might have done as kids when they told ghost stories. Nice in a way that’s slightly old-fashioned.

For a second he pictures them in like, Victorian times, huddled over dim candlelight in the middle of the night, doing something scandalous like brushing pinkie fingers. He is determined not to blush at his own silly imagination.

“You know, you work at a store that sells environmentally friendly luxury candles,” David points out. “Maybe you need to test some product?”

Patrick lights a match, his face lighting up just as he smirks, and it’s such a striking and gorgeous image that David swears his heart skips a beat. There’s always been something kind of magical about Patrick’s face, and it is only enhanced by candlelight. It’s so dumb, he and Patrick are seriously dating, and with thoughts like this, he often still feels like a hapless teenager with a huge, impossible crush.

“These are my grandmother’s candlesticks which have sentimental value, but I appreciate the plug,” Patrick replies. He starts rambling a little about how if he could have gotten his hands on some good firewood beforehand, they could have used the fireplace, but David kind of loses track of the conversation.

The storm is still raging outside, rain beating against the windows with ferocity. Thunder rumbles low every few minutes, and every once in a while there is a shock of lightning that illuminates the whole room. David jumps slightly every time.

“You alright there?” Patrick asks, and David nods hurriedly.

“Fine,” he says, determined. “Yes, totally fine, but a little bit glad I’m here and not at the motel? I do not love storms. They make me tense, and for some reason Alexis is endlessly amused by that, which makes her entirely unhelpful.” He jumps again at a particularly loud crack.

“Tense?” Patrick says, expression all softly lit and beautiful, even if it is carefully, jokingly blank and wide-eyed. “Tense, well. That must be a new sensation for you, David.”

“Okay, did I not just imply that I was grateful this is a safe space?” he asks, gearing up, but Patrick laughs, standing.

“Sorry, sorry. I think I have just the thing.” He rummages around in some cabinets for a minute, and it is just bright enough that David can see a sliver of his lower back as he reaches up. A tremor runs through him.

Patrick sits down again, setting down a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses between them. He’s wearing a slight smirk on his face, like it’s a dare.

David cringes. “Please tell me you have salt and lime.”

Now it’s Patrick’s turn to roll his eyes, but he does fetch them, cutting up little limes slices and returning. “You know what else will be good for your nerves?” he asks. “A distraction. We can play never have I ever.”

David’s jaw literally drops. “I’m sorry, have you been conspiring with my sister? Did you not see how terribly that went at your housewarming party? I mean, there’s probably not even anything interesting left to learn about each other. Oh, also, can you even play it with just two people? Has that ever been tested?”

Patrick laughs softly, already pouring them shots. “No, I have not been texting with Alexis, yes, I do think there’s more we can learn about each other, it’ll help you relax, and I’m sure we can make do. It’s a made-up drinking game, not _Monopoly_.”

“Are we both operating under the same definition of _relax_?”

“David,” Patrick prompts, firm but sweet, and David acqueises. There’s a wicked sort of glint in Patrick’s eye when he goes quiet, but he’s only looking at David for a second before he’s back to the task at hand, licking his hand and then salting it, and it’s so _stupid_ but David goes hot all over. Patrick can obviously tell, from his smirk and the way he looks up at David from under his lashes.

David follows, a little more slowly. “I’ll start you with an easy one,” Patrick promises, raising his shot. “Never have I ever… slept with a coworker.”

Patrick smirks, because he thinks he’s clever, and David shoots him a wry look. They both toss back their shots, David shuddering after his. He wouldn’t really describe himself as a tequila guy, though it is slightly better than he expected. “What even is this?” he asks, turning the bottle so he can squint at the label.

Patrick looks pleasantly surprised at how it went down, but he shrugs. “It was a gift from Ray, in congratulations for opening the store,” he says. “I gotta say, it’s actually kind of nice.”

“Wait, it was for both of us and you just kept it?” David asks, crossing his arms, faux-offended as Patrick pours more shots. “What other gifts are you keeping from me?”

Patrick chuckles, soft. “I only kept it because I knew you weren’t a tequila guy, David.”

It’s a little unsettling that his boyfriend basically just read his mind, but David isn’t planning on letting him know that. “Mm,” David says, nodding, skeptical. “And on what information did you base this assumption?”

Patrick looks at him, fully grinning at this point. “Our second date, when we went to that Mexican restaurant in Elmdale and you told me tequila was either for desperate co-eds or miserable 40-something women who need a margarita to take the edge off their lives?”

Well, that does sound like something he would say. He uncrosses his arms, moving to lean back on his hands. “Okay, fine. In that case, never have I ever missed the exit for my destination while driving on a second date because I was too distracted.”

Patrick hisses, like it actually stings. “Oh, so you’re going to play mean like your sister?” he asks, throwing it back before biting down on a lime slice, quaking a little, and David’s stomach flip-flops, watching him.

“Let’s not talk about my sister right now. Thanks so much.”

“For the record, I only missed the exit because I was _distracted_ listening to you talk about your parents holding the motel guests hostage while they removed a dead body,” Patrick insists, and David nods, sarcastically. “It was a very compelling story.”

David has to twist his mouth to one side to keep from grinning. He remembers the way Patrick looked at him that night, hung on his every word in an irresistible combination of nerves and a sort of open, cautious excitement—like he couldn’t quite believe they were on a date that both of them were aware of, and he didn’t want to jinx it. David’s nerves had manifested in chattiness, and it wasn’t until a good five minutes after they blew past the sign they had both realized their mistake. Patrick had blushed adorably, embarrassed, and David had wanted to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.

“Right,” Patrick says, decisively, looking at David with mischief in his eyes that makes him feel like he will mostly likely be catching right up. “Never have I ever dreamed about someone fucking me on the bar of the cafe.”

David’s jaw _drops_. Patrick’s expression is knowing and expectant, and sure enough, David takes his shot.

“What the fuck,” he says when he’s recovered, because he hadn’t told _anyone_ about that dream. He has no idea how Patrick knows about it.

“Has Alexis never shared with you that you talk in your sleep sometimes?” Patrick asks, all fake inquisitiveness, and David feels heat rising to his face.

“First of all, Alexis sleeps like a rock so I doubt she’s ever noticed. Secondly, what the fuck was I saying?”

Patrick’s trying to maintain his imitation of a professional interview demeanor, but his smile is starting to win out. “It wasn’t so much words as sounds, at first? But then you were ordering breakfast, and I just kind of… pieced it together.” He looks so deliciously _smug_ to have been right that David can’t help but be grudgingly impressed and charmed. “Is there anything you’d like to share?”

David takes a deep breath. “Look, _maybe_ my subconscious just thinks you’d look hot in an apron, okay, and if you make us pancakes afterward, well, that’s just convenient,” he explains, the words falling out of his mouth faster than he can control them, and Patrick is laughing quietly behind his hand now, and David is less embarrassed and more amused by the whole thing.

Patrick plucks his shot glass out of his hand and refills it. “I might have an apron, somewhere,” he says under his breath, as if to even the score, laughing softly as David raises an eyebrow at him. “Your turn.”

He thinks. He doesn’t want to just get Patrick to take another shot on something they both already know. He wants something good. Something he’s been wondering, something juicy. “Never have I ever… taken nude pictures.”

David downs his shot, because _obviously_ , but feels a rush of heat surge through him as Patrick downs his too. “Oh my god, tell me everything.”

Patrick squirms slightly, but David can also see the edge of excitement in him. “There’s really not much to tell,” he admits. “It was when I went home to that bachelor party a few weeks ago?”

“And you called me drunk off your ass at 2 AM?”

Patrick flushes immediately, smiling fondly. “Yes.”

“What was it you wanted to call me about, again?” David asks, faking forgetfulness, and Patrick grins at him, indulgent, even as he rolls his eyes slightly.

“To update you on the hotel bar’s karaoke repertoire. Obviously.”

David beams. He had woken up groggy and anxious, but quickly pivoted to awake and delighted once Patrick started talking. He’s still never seen Patrick really drunk, but hearing it on the phone made him feel stupidly fond. He was all slurry and sappy, detailing all the Mariah songs they had and David had played along happily, expressing faux-outrage at their inclusion of some random songs from _Caution_ but not “Fantasy” from _Daydream_ , of all things.

“Shit,” Patrick had finally said. “Is it really 2 AM? God, I probably woke you up. Are you at the motel, are you standing outside in the dark to talk to me?”

“No,” David had assured him. “I’m—I’m actually at your place,” he confessed. “Alexis is running her _Cabaret_ choreo like, 24/7 at this point and I’m trying not to get kicked in the shins again.”

“Ugh,” Patrick groaned overdramatically. “I wish I was there, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to just—babble nonsense at you in the middle of the night.”

“It’s fine,” David said, grinning so hard his face hurt. “It’s not nonsense, I’ll make a point to cross them right off my list of acceptable karaoke venues. Besides, you listen to my rambling all the time.”

“This isn’t how I wanted this conversation to go,” Patrick sighed, adorably frustrated. “I just—meant to call and say good night,” he said, soft and real, and David’s heart nearly melted right there. He suddenly felt very far away.

“I miss you,” David had murmured, easier on the phone in the middle of the night, somehow, and the line went quiet for a second, and David didn’t need to see his face to know that Patrick was smiling.

“I love you,” he’d replied, and from there, David had recommended that Patrick go to sleep, but not before he took some aspirin and drank a few glasses of water.

It’s stupid, probably, that it’s one of his favorite memories of dating Patrick: a twenty minute phone call when they were two and a half hours apart. But it had made him feel so domestic and warm inside, that even completely wasted, Patrick still wanted to hear his voice before going to sleep.

“ _Anyway,_ ” Patrick continues, shooting David a pointed look, as if to say, _look, do you want to hear this story or not?_ and David shuts up, because he very much does. “After I talked to you, I felt like… I don’t know. Good, I guess, and I was drunk, obviously, and I thought it might be a good idea?” he shrugs. “It was just practice, and the next morning I woke up and was so embarrassed and deleted them all.”

As nice as it is to think about, the idea of Patrick posing in front of his phone in some hotel bed, thinking about David and feeling “good,” David tries not to let it show. Well, he’s sure Patrick can tell a little bit. He knows David’s tells at this point.

“Okay,” he says, scooting a little closer. “First of all, I’m going to need a lot more details about this at a later time. Secondly, you obviously have _nothing_ —” he gestures broadly at Patrick, “—to be embarrassed about in that arena. But it might be for the best that you deleted them? Because if you had sent me one unprompted, I would have absolutely lost my mind immediately.”

And he definitely shouldn’t have said that, because Patrick’s eyebrows shoot up interestedly, and David knows for a fact that’s his _take note for later_ face. God, now he’s definitely going to get a picture from Patrick when he least expects it. “Good to know,” he replies casually. “What about yours?”

David blinks at him. “Which time?”

Patrick laughs slightly, shaking his head. “Which time? You’re telling me you have a whole collection of naked photos and I have yet to see any?”

“Excuse me,” David says, “you have yet to indicate you would _like_ any naked photos! I have to know in advance, you know, to start brainstorming.”

Once again, Patrick’s looking at him like he’s just said something ridiculous when in reality, Patrick’s the ridiculous one. What kind of grown person has never sent a nude? “What do you mean, brainstorming?” he asks.

David rolls his eyes. “Well, you don’t just send someone an nude originally meant for someone else, obviously, though I do keep them for reference. You have to take into account what the other person likes, what their vibe is…”

“Wow, I’m learning so much about nude-related etiquette,” Patrick deadpans, trying very hard to hide his grin behind his hand and not really succeeding by any metric. “Sorry, you keep them on your phone for _reference_? In what scenario would that be necessary?”

David sighs. “Obviously you weren’t here when my mother was running for council. There was this whole nude photo scandal false alarm and the only picture she could find online was a photoshopped one, but she couldn’t _prove_ it was photoshopped because she didn’t have any of the originals,” David explains, dead serious. “It’s a very important life lesson, actually.”

“Uh huh,” Patrick agrees, though he sounds sarcastic. “I’ll write it down in my journal so I don’t forget.”

“I suggest you do,” David says, playing right along, which wins back Patrick’s grin. He scoots closer so they’re sitting more side-by-side now and reaches out, catching one of Patrick’s hands and tangling their fingers together.

“Wait, what’s my vibe?” Patrick says, voice low, and there’s a little bit of real curiosity there, hidden beneath the games and the teasing, which David wants to just _devour_. “You know, just so I have an idea of… what to expect.”

And David almost blushes himself, this time, because he just has a sense about these things. He doesn’t even have to think about it. The perfect nude photo for Patrick would be one that David actually lets _him_ take.

He’s never done that for someone before. He’s taken nudes in fancy bathrooms and dimly bedrooms, but he’s always been the one in control—maximizing his best angles, hiding his more self-conscious features. And there was something nice about that, composing the shot just-so.

Of course he’s had dozens of pictures taken of him with various levels of consent. He doesn’t miss the fucking paparazzi, that’s for sure, and there was that time Sebastian took naked photos of him asleep, which still makes his skin crawl. He had thought it was sexy for about a split second, caught up in the novelty of it, and it wasn’t until they’d fucked and Sebastian had talked about submitting them to some show or award or magazine that David had realized he felt absolutely violated.

But something makes him feel really warm and fuzzy inside thinking about being in bed with Patrick and letting him have the camera. Letting him pose David however he wants, though he has a feeling Patrick would choose something ludicrous and sappy, like making David laugh and then taking it when his face looks dumb and unguarded, stupidly happy. It honestly sounds kind of nice.

He doesn’t want to share that yet, though. There’s no rush.

So David shakes his head, mouth forming a pleased smirk against his will. “Nice try,” he says, “But no sneak previews or hints.”

Patrick sighs in response, dramatic and playful as he fiddles with the rings on David’s fingers. David swears, he’s had these forever and no one has ever given them a second thought, but it’s almost like an unconscious soothing mechanism for Patrick. The amount of times they’ll be sitting in front of the TV on just any normal night and Patrick will start to turn them, smooth over them, whatever, and not even noticing it, kind of makes David’s heart do somersaults.

He’s never been in a relationship like this before, where his partner is touching him subconsciously in such a nice, innocent way… not to lead to anything or to draw David’s attention. Patrick just seems to take comfort in being able to touch David, even in the smallest, most inconsequential ways, and David has to stop himself from grinning every single time.

“I’ll still keep trying,” Patrick promises, voice still soft and gravelly as he leans in to kiss David once, slow and dirty and hot, giving David _just_ enough time to get into it and then pulling away, a satisfied look on his face like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And the thing is, David knows exactly what he’s doing too. He’s trying to distract David not just with alcohol or questions about nudes, but with that irresistible, slow-burn flirtation, because he knows that works every time. It’s been a good five minutes since David counted the seconds between a thunderclap and a lightning strike, and honestly, he hasn’t even noticed until right now.

“Your turn,” he says, reaching for the bottle, and Patrick gives him a surprised look.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, David Rose?” he jokes.

“Um, just a reminder that _you’re_ the one who started this game,” David shoots back, and then, “But after hearing that last story about your drunken behavior, also maybe yes.”

Patrick laughs gently, shaking his head a little while David pours their shots. He picks his up, staring straight at David, thinks for a minute before saying, “Never have I ever… come without being touched.”

David feels himself flush, not making eye contact as he downs his shot. Patrick doesn’t touch his.

“Wow,” Patrick says, voice rough and eyes a little wide, even though he was the one who asked the question in the first place, so he must have at least suspected. The word sits there for a minute, hanging awkwardly in the air while David tries to figure out what to say.

“It hasn’t exactly been pleasant? When I have in the past,” David explains, wincing a little as the words come out.

“Oh,” says Patrick, face immediately going concerned. “Is it—is it not good for you, or—”

“I was dating this guy who was real into like, overstimulation? And so he liked to see how far he could, um. Push. And it was too much.” He feels his heart beating stupidly fast at the admission, because he’s never told anyone this and it feels like it could be too much. He’s no longer expecting Patrick to break up with him any second, but he does sometimes wonder if he’s eventually going to see how fucked up David’s been and freak out, at the very least.

“ _Oh,_ he says again, his voice an entirely different tone this time. “David, I’m sorry, I only asked because the other week I thought, maybe—”

“It’s fine,” David insists, cutting him off. “I think—I think it could be nice? With you.” He looks up for a quick glance at Patrick, whose face has gone soft. “The other week, when I… almost, it was. Nice,” he admits.

It had startled him, slightly. It had startled _both_ of them, to be fair, but for David because it had never happened so easily. It had usually meant pushing, and pressure, and shaking, and tears. Not good tears, but not bad tears either. Just tears of too much. He hadn’t minded when it first happened, but then Dane had been _really_ into it, like, he wanted it to happen every time, and David had started to feel weird about it. Like that was all he was good for.

So it had been surprising but also kind of good, to learn that his body could do that without him trying so hard for it.

“Oh,” Patrick says for the third time, soft and understanding. “David—”

“I’ve had quite a few not-so-great experiences,” he confesses, like Patrick hasn’t already figured that out on his own. But it’s all out of it coming out in a rush now, because it seems like the time and if not tonight, when will he ever start? “But I, I trust you, and I feel like I’d try anything with you because… because I know you’d stop if I needed.” Patrick nods, insistent, and David lets out a deep breath. “Even stuff that’s been bad before, I can’t imagine it being bad. With you.”

He needs Patrick not to say anything, because as earnest and kind and sweet as he is, it was hard enough for David to talk about and he kind of doesn’t want to think about it for another second. He knows they will eventually, that they’ll have to get into all the difficult stuff and it’ll be for the best but… not yet.

And somehow Patrick knows, because he just tangles their fingers together and squeezes David’s hand against his own, and doesn’t say a word.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Really turned the mood there, didn’t I?”

“It’s fine,” David says, shaking his head quickly. He reaches for the tequila bottle. “One last one?” Patrick doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t object when David pours a shot.

“Never have I ever…” He bites his lip, thinking, and Patrick is looking at him like he’s the whole world, and David swears he can feel the air buzzing with tension, like they’re both holding their breath.

And then there’s a clap of thunder so loud it feels like it’s right on top of them.

They both jump a mile, and David yelps, knocking over their last shots. Patrick’s the first one to start laughing, tension broken, and then David is too, and neither of them can stop. It’s the kind of laughter that’s so hard it’s nearly silent, and it feels like letting out a long breath all of a sudden. David’s eyes are welling up and it’s not just from the laughing, it’s from the whole night, the way he feels too much all at once.

They regain their composure, and mood shifts again after a moment. This time, it’s like all the oxygen has been sucked out of the room.

“David,” Patrick is saying suddenly, when they’re both gasping for breath, and there’s something desperate and needy in his face, and all David can do is nod. He feels the same way, like if he doesn’t get his hands on Patrick immediately he’ll explode.

Patrick is kissing him, hot and messy and groaning into his mouth, and it’s all David can do to hold on, scrambling to lie back without hurting himself, using the hand fisted in Patrick’s button-down to pull him down on top of him, a warm and solid weight. He spreads his legs and Patrick settles between them, hands fumbling with the hem of David’s sweater and David is _shaking_ , he wants this so much. He doesn’t even want to stop kissing Patrick for long enough for him to work his shirt over his head until Patrick groans “ _David_ ” into his mouth, frustrated and wild, so David breaks away long enough to let him.

Then Patrick’s hands and his mouth are all over him, making his way down David’s stomach and biting at his hip bone in a way that never fails to make David gasp. He’s stripping David of his pants, his socks, then making his way back up to the spot under his ear. David shudders, feeling needy. “Patrick, c’mon,” he gasps, trembling hands trying and failing on Patrick’s buttons.

“Okay, okay,” Patrick murmurs, rushed, but his hands are shaking too, and they both hear the telltale _rip_ at the same time. The sound shocks a laugh out of David.

“Fuck,” he gasps, clapping a hand over his mouth, but Patrick is undeterred, shrugging it off as quickly as he can.

“It’s fine,” he breathes into David’s mouth. “I know it wasn’t your favorite,” and David can’t help but smile against his lips.

It isn’t long before Patrick’s pants are strewn aside as well and they’re rolling their hips together in their underwear, breathing heavy. It’s insane how good this feels, all urgency and pure friction, and David would be perfectly happy to continue and come in his nice underwear like a teenager, but he wants it all. “Patrick, I need, I need—”

“Tell me,” Patrick exhales, palming over David’s dick in his boxer-briefs, but David can’t _say it_ , he just _craves_.

He hesitates. “Can you get…” he starts, letting himself trail off as his breath catches, and Patrick’s eyes go wide with understanding.

“Yeah, yes, fuck,” he agrees, fervent, scrambling to his knees and then to the bedside table, and David squeezes his eyes shut until he can feel Patrick’s hands on him again, peeling his boxers off and circling him with one slick finger.

“ _Patrick_ ,” he whines, because as good as it feels, he feels like he’s been keyed up and ready for this for so long already. Everything about this has made him feel like a fucking high-schooler, like all finesse and self-control has gone straight out the window and into the storm, and all that’s left is this intense need to _consume_ Patrick, to kiss him until his lips burn and he comes so hard he cries.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” Patrick murmurs, kissing David's temple as he works his finger inside him, and David swears, low and vehement. Soon there’s two and he’s undulating into it. Patrick has gotten so good at this lately; he knows just how to work so that David feels lit up inside, already messy and leaking before there’s even been so much as a hand on his dick.

Patrick works him for longer than he really needs, and it isn’t until David gasps “I _need_ you,” that he lets up. Patrick nods, a little frantic as he sheds his own underwear, fumbling the condom on. He hitches one of David’s legs over his shoulder for a better angle before bracing a hand on the floor and sliding into David in one long, sure stroke.

Patrick fucks him deep and slow and David can’t stop making helpless noises. He knows he’s going to feel this in the morning, and honestly, he can’t fucking wait. He’s going to remember every single second of this. He’s going to savor the burn in his thighs and remember feeling so frenzied they couldn’t even make it to the bed, he’s going to press into the bruise on his hip and remember the roar of rain outside, he’s going to catch Patrick’s eyes lingering on the hickey under his ear and remember the taste of tequila heavy on Patrick’s tongue.

“Don’t fucking stop,” he groans, nails digging into Patrick’s back. He’s sure he’s leaving scratches, but he couldn’t stop if he tried. He knows Patrick likes them. He caught him blushing once, angling to get a look at the raised red marks in the mirror as he toweled himself off after a shower, a small secret smile on his face that David has kept entirely to himself. God, he fucking loves him.

“David, I’m almost, I’m not—” he pants, dropping his forehead to David’s collarbone, fucking him in earnest now, moving his hips faster. His stomach is brushing up against David’s balls and it’s not going to take much for him either; he is already embarrassingly close.

“Yeah,” David says, “Come on, Patrick, give it to me, _please_ ,” and Patrick reaches down to take David’s cock in his hand, jerking him fast and helpless. David cries out, already on edge, desperate to come, and when Patrick groans and lets himself go, David spills into his hand with a cry.

Patrick collapses on top of him, panting, pressing gentle kisses to David’s neck for a moment while they come down. He pulls out and rolls over, prompting a slight wince from David and a devastating emptiness, before lying down next to him as they try to catch their breath.

The rain is still pounding down, making everything seem quiet and intimate and close. David looks around at their clothes thrown haphazardly around the room, the knocked-over shot glasses, the candles dripping wax on the floor.

He tilts his head to the side to look at Patrick, smile fighting its way onto his face as he takes in Patrick’s long fluttering lashes, the flush high and hot on his cheeks, wandering all the way down onto his chest. “Hey,” he murmurs, bumping Patrick’s shoulder with his own.

Patrick turns to look at him, slightly awed the way he always is after they have sex. He’d told David once that it’d never been like this before for him, that sex wasn’t something he’d ever really needed—it had felt awkward, uncomfortable, unsatisfying. So David can’t help but feel stupidly, incredibly fond and protective of him in moments like these. And… proud. Proud that he can give Patrick what he deserves, and proud that Patrick was brave enough to let himself have this.

“Hi,” Patrick murmurs back, quiet and close.

David lets his grin loose. “Never have I ever fucked someone on the living room floor.”

Patrick grins, shoulders shaking as he tips forward, laughing into David’s mouth as he kisses him.

 

//

 

When David wakes up the next morning, he peeks his head out from the duvet to discover that every single light is on in Patrick’s apartment, as is the TV. The streaming service menu plays on a loop, ready to resume _13 Going on 30_ whenever they’d like. David huffs out a laugh. They will be starting over from the beginning, thank you.

It’s still raining, but softer now, a welcome accompaniment to a quiet Sunday morning where they can lay in bed until well past what’s truly reasonable. It had still been thundering and carrying on when they’d made it to bed last night, and Patrick had kindly curled himself around David, which served the dual purpose of warming him up and keeping him from shaking with nerves.

He rolls over to find Patrick blinking awake as well, looking adorably sleep-rumpled and lovely. “Morning,” he murmurs, voice a little raspy, yawning after, and David smiles, small and helpless.

“Thank you for last night,” David whispers back, and it’s like he can see Patrick waking up after he says it, his face brightening as he scoots close enough to wrap an arm around David’s waist.

“Anytime,” he murmurs, kissing him lightly, his stubble brushing across David’s skin in a way that leaves him shuddering in Patrick’s arms, completely powerless to Patrick’s touch. He presses their foreheads together, joking, “But maybe not _any_ time? I think last night may have done a number on my back for a bit. And my knees.”

David nods, charmed but also slightly relieved. As much as he apparently enjoys a good old-fashioned athletic fuck on a hardwood floor, he is also _very_ partial to getting Patrick off in a comfy bed with lots of pillows. “Agreed,” he admits, drawing his finger in slow circles on Patrick’s hip. “In fact, I think it basically counts as a workout? So there’s no reason for you to get out of bed and go to the gym.”

Patrick laughs, surprised and delighted as he kisses David slow and smiling, obviously willing to comply. “Weather like this is better spent in bed, anyway,” he whispers against David’s lips when they give each other a moment to breathe, and David grins, settling comfortably in his boyfriend’s arms as the rain pitter-patters lightly against the windows.

**Author's Note:**

> I guess this is where we plug things? I am old and have not had a tumblr in many eons, but you can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/wardowedidit). I'm gonna need more people to scream at after Tuesday's "Meet the Parents" episode. Let's be friends!
> 
> ALSO, [call_me_tina_b](https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_tina_b) reminded me of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W8I7ITZ7fT0&feature=youtu.be) excellent fanvideo for them which is how I associated the song with them in the first place! Go watch and feel the feelings!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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